L'Italiano
by Tricette
Summary: Song fic from l'Italiano of Toto Cutugno about out dear Feliciano Italy. POV Ludwig Germany. Slight GerIta. Starring the awesome Gilbert. Nothing is mine. I own nothing nor Hetalia nor the song. If you want it in French, just ask:


**L'italiano**

At Ludwig's home, at 10 a.m.

It has been three hours since I began to work. I got a lot of paper work to do after the reunification of Germany. As usual my little Italy is here and he should awake soon.

There, here he goes. Like every day he wakes up singing. And like every day, I pause in my work to listen to his beautiful voice, even if I would never admit this. What is it today? I don't think I know this one.

Lasciatemi cantare  
con la chitarra in mano  
lasciatemi cantare  
sono un italiano

It's true that he, Feliciano Vargas, is an Italian. With his brother, he is the most _Italian _person I've ever met. He is always happy, very seductive, an authentic Casanova, while at the same time innocent and an artist. And he loves pasta. He can't live without pasta. Even in the morning he eats pasta. That's what he is preparing. I can smell it. And he is a great cook. But rarely do other things than pasta.

I can hear him turning on the radio. If he is not singing, he listens to music. Classic music like Verdi or Vivaldi. Even if I prefer Handel or Bach, I have to admit that it is great music. But we both think that Mozart is the best compositor.

Buongiorno Italia gli spaghetti al dente  
e un partigiano come Presidente  
con l'autoradio sempre nella mano destra  
e un canarino sopra la finestra

Today, Mein brüder Gilberd comes here to visit us. Italy lives most of the time here at home not that I complain. I think it is him at the door. I hear Feliciano setting his spoon on the table and go greet him still humming. As usual Prussia came with his little yellow chick. Gilbird takes his usual place on the window.

I gather my paper to go greet him. Under my paper, I find a draw Italy drew for me yesterday. Even if it had upset me because I had more important things to do, now it brings me a smile. It represents Italy holding my hand. Feli really has a gift. I think he should have been an artist. He is really talented.

Buongiorno Italia con i tuoi artisti  
con troppa America sui manifesti  
con le canzoni con amore  
con il cuore  
con piu' donne sempre meno suore

Since the end of the war a lot of American products are sold in Italy. For the great pleasure of Alfred. And I know sometimes Feliciano whishes there would be less hamburger and Coca-Cola and more wine and pasta.

Later in the afternoon, I can still hear him singing this song. He is sat next to me drawing on my desk. I suddenly feel your hand on my arm and hear you singing "con amore, con il cuore…" And my heart made this flip-flop it always do when you look at me with those half-lidded eyes.

Buongiorno Italia  
buongiorno Maria  
con gli occhi pieni di malinconia  
buongiorno Dio  
lo sai che ci sono anch'io

Italy is a god. Even if he is not great at war, I think he is the best man I've ever seen. Always kind, even with his enemies. And I think he should be a saint for supporting me every day. I've never had a lot of friends. In the truth, Feliciano is my only friend and I know I would feel very lonely if one day I lose him. Italy is my God.

Lasciatemi cantare  
con la chitarra in mano  
lasciatemi cantare  
una canzone piano piano  
Lasciatemi cantare  
perche' ne sono fiero  
sono un italiano  
un italiano vero

And you can be proud of what you are because everyone loves you. Even if they don't understand why you always use a white flag, I do. Some thinks you aren't proud of what you are, of who you are. But me I know your story and I know that you had suffer the loss a person dear to your heart and you don't want don't live this again nor to inflict this to others. I don't think it's fear but more care for your relatives.

Buongiorno Italia che non si spaventa  
e con la crema da barba alla menta  
con un vestito gessato sul blu  
e la moviola la domenica in TV

Today it's Sunday. Yesterday I made you put your things away. It always amazes me the mess you can do while after you tidy your room it's cleaner than mine. Now you're watching your favorite programme on TV. You are wearing your blue jacket, the one you wear the most often. I'm sitting on the sofa next to you reading. After a short moment, I feel you resting your head on my knee, cuddling. From this position I can smell your aftershave. A fresh hint of mint.I don't think you know it, But for me it's the best time of the week.

Buongiorno Italia col caffe' ristretto  
le calze nuove nel primo cassetto  
con la bandiera in tintoria  
e una 600 giu' di carrozzeria

Later this day you bring me coffee to my desk. You knew that I need it. You always know. You always take care of me and I realize that I never really thanked you.

You tell me that tomorrow you'll have to go to the laundry to take your white flag. You're proud of using your new fiat 600 even if before it had belonged to your brother Romano.

Buongiorno Italia  
buongiorno Maria  
con gli occhi pieni di malinconia  
buongiorno Dio  
lo sai che ci sono anch'io

Yes I know that you are a god. You look a lot like Cupid and you are as beautiful and cute as a cherub. I think that with all your kindness, a place for you is reserved next to God himself.

Lasciatemi cantare  
con la chitarra in mano  
lasciatemi cantare  
una canzone piano piano  
Lasciatemi cantare  
perche' ne sono fiero  
sono un italiano  
un italiano vero.

And you can be proud of what you are because I love you my little Feli with all my heart. My little Italian. Mein klein Italien. Mio piccolo Italiano.

La Fin

What do you think of it? Is it good or bad? Please be kind this is my first fic!


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